


What Lurks in the Dark

by yautjan



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Cave-In, Friends to Lovers, Ghosts, Gunners, I haven't decided if the rating will need to be boosted to E but we'll see, M/M, Raiders, Romance, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Tension, Warnings may update over time, and ghouls, like a lot of it, oh my, seriously this might get dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-11 20:52:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11722347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yautjan/pseuds/yautjan
Summary: It was an easy mission, easy targets to eliminate, MacCready thought. Find one man and go home. The mine might be shaking but if the raiders are living here, then it's no big deal, right?Until the mine caves in, of course.Now the survivors are fighting for food and water, there's ghouls banging on the doors, and something evil lives in the lowest reaches of Dunwich Borers. Oh, and everyone is trying to kill MacCready and his 200 year old boss, Völundr. It will take all their wit and grit to stay alive as supplies dwindle, the air turns stale, and their enemies do everything they can to exact their revenge as the darkness slowly drives them all mad.





	1. Dunwich Borers

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is my first fallout fic, I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> I'll do my best to keep to regular updates; I'm working on another story that also features my favorite sassy sniper and will probably be just as if not darker.
> 
> Shout out to my BF Kreed (who is not on here) for editing this hunk of text for me.

“I think we are almost there,” the man said as he scrolled through the map on his Pip-Boy, its faint green light illuminating his gas mask. He flipped the light off and lowered his arm down, as he gave the stars a glance to determine their next direction. “Just a kilometer to the east and we should be there.” He stood from his crouch, grabbing his radium rifle and leading the way towards their destination.

MacCready stifled a yawn as he drew himself up, the ache in his legs noticeable from a long day of walking. His boss was on another one of his fool’s errands, doing the work that no one else was either competent enough or stupid enough to do. If he had still been working “just another job”, with his only goal being the caps he desperately needed to send south… He would have been anxious to quit and find someone else’s ass to cover.

But the last two months had proved that he was traveling with an employer of a different caliber. He could silently thank his little run-in in the Third Rail for it, that he had been able to explain his predicament. That those 250 caps had turned into a Gunner massacre and a little syringe of Prevent on its way to the Capital Wasteland.

His chest still felt tight as he recalled entering the laboratory not ten days prior, mowing through a nightmare fuel’s worth of ferals like they were pests. His boss had led the charge, forging a path through the ghouls like they had personally caused _him_ hell rather than his companion, and he’d even offered a _hug_ when they finally found the cure as MacCready choked on his words and held back tears of relief.

MacCready jogged to catch up with the taller man, who often seemed to forget his steps were longer than his shorter companion’s. “Are we going to camp before we deal with whatever horrors might be awaiting us?” he asked, doing his best to hide his exhaustion in his voice.

“Probably,” the other man replied, his silver voice tinny through his mask filter. “We can scope it out and assault it tomorrow night if it’s actually dangerous.”

“It is, I’m sure of it,” MacCready said. “Raiders like to hole up in old quarries like this. Good defense.”

He could hear the frown in the other man’s voice. “Not sure how a hole _in_ the ground against makes for good defense.”

“Fair, but other groups of raiders don’t exactly carry guns like me or even you in their pockets,” MacCready said.

There was a brief moment of silence, then a quiet laugh from beneath the mask. “Lucky for us.”

MacCready fell into step with his deceptively rail-thin companion, thankful for the second presence in the long January nights. Snow crunched beneath their feet as they went, reflecting enough moonlight to provide some idea of where they were going. Perhaps it wasn’t ideal for hiding, but the north of the Commonwealth was just an iota safer than the rest.

The comfortable silence between them didn’t break until they were close to their target, and the masked man raised an arm to stop them both. “We should camp here,” he decided. MacCready followed his finger to a cluster of trees that would provide decent shelter.

“Got it, boss,” MacCready said as he slung his bag off his back to set up his tent before his fingers froze and fell off.

By the time a fire was started and their sleeping arrangements sorted, MacCready was fighting the urge to fall over and sleep right there and then. Instead he sank onto the edge of his sleeping bag, sheltered from the occasional snowflakes the wind would dislodge from the branches above by his patchwork tent. He watched his companion as he sat across from him and pulled the gas mask off.

“You look like you’re about to freeze to death, Vol,” MacCready remarked idly, eyeing his company’s cold-flushed cheeks and nose.

“Working on it.” Vol busied himself with unwinding the scarf from his head and neck, allowing it to fall loosely around his shoulders so he could rake his slender fingers through his unruly black hair.

MacCready had been taken off his guard when he had seen Völundr’s face for the first time by his youth and unusually tidy appearance. He was vaguely reminded of a rat, albeit one that was (objectively) easy on the eyes, with cheekbones he was half-convinced could cut through rock. His stubble was overgrown at the moment, save the patch on the right side of his chin where a wide, white scar cut up towards the corner of his mouth.

It was his eyes that had caught his attention though—bright green with flecks of grey and gold, angled slightly and faintly olive bruises outlining his sockets, stark against his pale skin. They had a haunted look to them, older than they should have been for such a young man.

Vol reached into his bag for a pair of scavenged earmuffs and put them on, huddled over the fire. “Tomorrow,” he said, “We’ll scout the area out. Dress warm and get a lay of the area before we do anything.”

"You think the guy you’re looking for is really in there?” MacCready asked, only vaguely aware of the actual details of their mission. He’d spent the night in the Rexford on Vol’s dime as Vol slipped into the shadows to conduct business with some of his ‘partners’. The stealth seemed ridiculous to him personally, but the Railroad didn’t have any interest in inviting an ex-Gunner mercenary anywhere near their fold. The fact he’d gotten so close to their front door was problematic enough for them.

Their concerns clearly didn’t matter as much to Vol as he led the Railroad to believe, though, since Vol was taking MacCready on yet another of their missions. He might’ve not been privy to the details, but being here to shoot nameless raiders in the face for a nameless objective on Vol’s command was better than wasting away in Goodneighbor or one of the Minutemen settlements.

“I do,” Vol said. “If he’s alive, we get him out. If he’s dead, we take what he’s got and I’ll return it to the Railroad.”

MacCready stretched his legs out on either side of the fire, covering a large yawn with his hand. “Okay then,” he said. “Sounds easy.”

“Shouldn’t be hard,” Vol agreed. “But we should definitely rest up in case.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” MacCready said. He pulled a blanket out of his bag and bundled up in it before he crawled into his sleeping bag. It wasn’t exactly a nice cozy inn bed, but it would do for the moment.

“Guess I’m taking the first watch,” Vol said, watching him. MacCready peered out of his bed, squinting as he attempted to determine if Vol was genuinely annoyed or not. He concluded he wasn’t.

“I’m already warm,” he said, ducking back into the bag to prove his point. He could hear Vol’s sigh over the fire.

“I never thought I’d miss Mexico,” he said, before MacCready recognized the unmistakable sounds of a gun being dismantled and cleaned. His comment made him frown—it was another on the growing list of “weird things Völundr says and won’t freaking explain”.

“That’s south of old America, right? Hear it’s not bombed as bad,” MacCready commented, voice muffled by his cocoon of layers.

“No,” Vol said. “I imagine not. But no way am I going there.”

“Why not?” MacCready inquired. Vol didn’t reply.

“Come on, you gotta have a reason,” the mercenary pressed.

Vol sighed again, a softer sound that the fire’s crackling nearly swallowed up. “Just some bad memories there, that’s all.”

_Fine then, don’t answer_ , MacCready thought. “Well, alright then. Enjoy the cold. Nighty-night.” The annoyed grunt he got in response was slightly satisfying after the brush off.

“Yeah, goodnight,” Vol said. “See you when I wake you. And be damned lucky if I don’t dump snow on your face to do it.”

“You won’t,” MacCready replied as he tucked his scarf protectively around his neck and ears before allowing sleep to lure him in.

 

* * *

 

Morning came far too soon in MacCready’s opinion, the mercenary half-asleep by the dying fire as Vol snored lightly nearby. He had managed maybe three hours before Vol had woken him to switch, and one could only thoroughly clean their weapons so many times before boredom set in. 

Fortunately, Vol’s tendencies to grab an excessive amount of electronic junk meant there was plenty of garbage among their supplies to do some basic repairs, and MacCready was able to take the time to patch a small crack in the stock of his rifle with some salvaged steel casing. He weighed the gun in mock aim, pointing across the horizon to another tree that through the scope he could tell had once had some birds nesting in it. It was tempting to pop a shot off for the hell of it, but alerting anyone nearby with the gunfire was undesirable enough for him to resist the urge.

When the first tendrils of pale light began to brush the grey horizon, MacCready got his belongings together and gave Völundr a light nudge with his foot.

“Wake up,” he said, quietly so the other man wouldn’t be startled into something drastic. Vol groaned, turning over in his bed and burying his face. His hair stood at wild angles from the short night, and he was giving MacCready the impression of an annoyed teenager. “Come on,” he urged. “We got business to do.”

From the depths of Vol’s pillow came a mumbled reply that MacCready couldn’t quite understand. “It’s not my fault you’re up late with those Railroad a—goons all night.”

“Fuck off,” Vol muttered, finding the strength to push himself up onto his elbows. A shiver ran down his spine as the cold morning set in. From the clouds to the west, MacCready figured there would be snowfall again today.

“I mean, if you _want_ to just camp here for another day, I won’t complain,” MacCready said. “Could use the sleep. And a hard drink.”

“Don’t _tempt_ me,” Vol ground out, finally sitting up. “Last thing I need right now.”

“Alright, jeez.” MacCready held his hands up in mock surrender. “Just trying to help.” He moved away, returning to the faint warmth of the fire’s embers. He went ahead and tossed some snow in it to smother it before retrieving some smoked jerky he’d bought to eat for breakfast.

Vol dressed and joined him shortly, pulling a patchwork, fur-lined coat over his road leathers and hammered steel armor that was about four sizes too big. He sat down heavily across from MacCready with a wide yawn, and reached over to snag some jerky for himself. MacCready gave him a brief look, but otherwise allowed it—it tasted like hide anyway.

“Soon as this is done,” Vol mumbled between bites, “I’m going to take a long-ass nap.”

MacCready agreed with an indistinct noise, as he pulled his duster tighter around himself. “Least this should be easy work, right? Just raiders.”

“That’s my thought,” Vol said. “Let’s just make sure we scout the place good before we do anything.”

“Sure thing,” MacCready said. “I’m ready to break camp and go whenever you are.”

“I’m not,” Vol said, before getting up and breaking camp anyway. 

 

* * *

 

Dunwich Borers was less than an hour’s walk from their camp. As the gaping hole in the ground came into view MacCready felt a twinge of anticipation, following Vol into a crouch behind a rock.

“I’ll go left,” Vol whispered. “Meet me on the other side, tell me what you see. Don’t engage unless they see you.”

MacCready nodded, hoping the early morning would keep the raiders in bed. “You got it.” He unshouldered his rifle, firmly gripping the comfortable weight in his callused hands, and slipped passed his companion into the open.

He kept his distance, noting the pre-War buildings surrounding the mine and the various warning signs cautioning anyone from approaching the edge. _Yeah, no kidding_ , he thought as he ducked between rocks and peered through his scope to assess the situation.

There were a few raiders patrolling the building near him, lazy in their movements but armed to the teeth and ready for any kind of a fight. _Maybe they’ll kill each other over some Jet_. Well, they probably wouldn’t, but a man could dream. He toed his way between two boulders to peer over the edge, keeping his feet planted firmly on the ground as vertigo tugged at his stomach.

The raiders had taken over the entire quarry, and MacCready stifled a swear beneath his breath as he peered to the cages at the very bottom, where a raider in power armor and his lackeys patrolled. _Great. I hope the guy we’re looking for wasn’t down there_. Of course, knowing their luck, their man would be.

At least two turrets were noted, and MacCready followed their thin wires to the building across the way, where Völundr was scouting. _He might be able to disable them_. The other man’s knack for technology was impressive, and sometimes it felt like he spoke binary better than English.

MacCready moved on, giving the pre-War building a wide breadth as he made his way across to meet with Vol. His companion was already waiting, rail-thin body tensed beneath his coat for a fight, hands gripping his radium rifle tightly. He spun sharply when he heard the crunch of snow, but relaxed his aim when he recognized MacCready.

“There’s turrets, raider with power armor, at least three raiders up on the surface on my side,” MacCready reported. “I’m guessing at least ten of them.”

“I’d make it twenty,” Vol said quietly. “I can disable the turrets, but there were some tunnels at the bottom; there might be more hiding inside.”

MacCready groaned. “Really? Just our luck.”

Vol grunted in agreement. “We still need to route them,” he said. “I’m going to charge the control for the turrets. I need you to pick off the bastards on the other side and cover my back.”

“Easy,” MacCready said, flicking the safety off his rifle. “Just be careful out there, you got it?”

“Will do my best,” Vol replied, turning his automated scope on and taking his leave. MacCready watched him go, tracking his subtle movements, until he was in reach of the raiders on the western edge. Taking a breath, MacCready turned away, moving to lie on his stomach in the snow between the rocks and track the eastern raiders. One leaned on the catwalk railing, back turned and head exposed.

He lined his rifle up, eye pressed to the scope and his focus on his breath and his target. _Just stay there_ , he thought, judging the wind by the way it ruffled his coat and chilled his bones. _Just wait…_

A loud, distinct blast of irradiated gunfire broke the morning silence, and MacCready did not hesitate any longer. He pulled the trigger on an exhale and lined his next shot up before he was even certain his target was dead, because there was no question whether or not he had missed.

Shouts rose from the various raiders within the quarry, and they were drawn out of hiding, scrambling for their weapons. MacCready easily picked off two more in the eastern building, before turning his sights back west to Vol’s location. Vol had given up his cover, favoring closer combat with his radium rifle to blast holes in whatever approached him. One woman came running at Vol’s left, and MacCready picked her off before Vol could turn to deal with her.

Vol ran into the western building, and MacCready heard from here an agonized scream before a wave of blood splattered the thick glass windows. His heart skipped a beat, wondering if it was Vol’s—if he’d just watched his friend die—but he saw Vol briefly move into view a moment later before he ducked out of sight to work on what MacCready could only assume was the terminal.

He turned his attention back to the quarry. Now that the raiders were awake and aware of the hell being unleashed above, they were moving into action, scaling the scaffolding and the old switchback roads to face their attackers. _Idiots_ , MacCready thought, reloading his gun and picking three of them off with embarrassing ease.

The clicking of the turrets died down suddenly, and he knew that Vol had been successful in disabling them. Said man came charging out of the control center a moment later, expression hidden but body bristling as he made for the nearest staircase and braved the icy metal to unload his gun into the first raider to get in his way. He moved across the ice with relative ease, using the slippery surface for his advantage against the raiders who could barely put their foot in front of the other.

MacCready snapped his gaze back to the raiders further below as a loud shot blasted the rock near him, forcing him to duck down. He retreated to a new perch, cursing below his breath as the first white snowflake drifted onto his gun. Great, just what they needed.

“Be careful down there,” he muttered, before leaning forward and returning the scope to his eye to focus on the kill.

Vol was about halfway down, and the raider with the power armor decided he was in close enough range now to begin unloading his submachine gun in the masked man’s direction. Vol took shelter behind one of the turrets, barely shielded from the erratic spray of bullets. MacCready turned his sights to the raider below, struggling to line up a shot as the snow began to pick up. A kill shot was going to be impossible like this, but he needed to get the prick off Vol’s ass. Making a decision, he lined his shot up with the raider’s shoulder joint and let loose, hoping to hit the hydraulics.

The power armor hissed as the raider’s right arm went dead, throwing his aim off and making him stumble. Vol tore out of hiding a moment later, moving for one of the crude lifts that crossed the quarry. He took one look at the platform in front of him, then back up at the rope, and MacCready felt in his gut long before he registered that Vol was doing something risky and stupid.

The raider was retreating as the half-dozen or so of his lackeys that remained scrambled to stop the two men, and Vol used the opportunity to shoot the rope holding the lift in place. He leapt onto the platform as the rope lost its tension, then pushed off it to grab the thick cord as his weight sent the lift flying straight off to the ground.

MacCready bit back a curse as the lift crashed into one of the raiders below, smashing him, and Vol used the momentum of the falling rope to swing down to the bottom of the quarry.

“You motherf—damn it!” MacCready exclaimed, leaping up from the snow. He was going to need to get close to finish off the rest, especially if Vol was about to fall to his death.

Vol was approaching the ground fast, and he let go just a few feet above the ground, falling into a roll on the hard rock. He was up and moving as soon as he found his feet, rifle blasts echoing on the walls as he backpedaled to the perimeter, aiming at anything that moved.

MacCready broke into a sprint for the nearest staircase. The moment his foot touched the metal he slipped, barely catching himself by throwing his arms over the railing and holding on with a surprised yell. _Stupid_ , he thought angrily, regaining his balance and treading the stairs more carefully down. The power-armored raider had taken shelter behind an old piece of equipment, reloading his gun with one hand. _Shoot,_ he thought.

He made it about half-way down before he decided it was good enough and planted himself on a landing, hooking an arm around one of the railings to avoid any icy mishaps. From here he could count 3 raiders left, including Power Armor Guy. The other two had found Vol’s position though, and were closing in, evading the radium rifle uncomfortably well.

“No you don’t,” MacCready growled, picking one off with a bullet to the back of her head. The other immediately ran for shelter, but he was caught by Vol’s gun. That just left the power armor. MacCready turned his aim back to the man’s hiding spot, only to realize he’d gone missing. _Oh no._

A burst of machine gun fire rolled through the quarry, and MacCready spotted Vol making a leap for cover, cursing loud enough to be heard even from here. The last raider emerged from his new hiding spot, wielding his submachine gun with his one good arm, the cage around his face exposed enough to reveal his twisted snarl. He was pinning Vol down fast, intending to corner him and rip him to shreds.

MacCready breathed in, lining up his shot, drowning the gunfire out and focusing only on the crosshatch in his scope. The wind was picking up, and with the quarry’s high walls threatened to whip it into a whirlwind. The snow was coming down hard, obstructing the view. He’d done tricky shots before, and this was definitely going towards the top of the list.

The raider was almost upon Vol, machine gun raining bullets on the steel container Vol had taken refuge behind, and MacCready exhaled as his finger squeezed the trigger, letting loose the .308 with a crack.

The gunfire came to an abrupt halt as the raider lost his grip on the gun, staggering back. MacCready watched through the scope as the raider raised his hand to the cage protecting his face, life flashing before him as blood poured down his face where the bullet had lodged into his jaw, ripping it apart.

Vol swung up from his shelter, bending back to aim his radium rifle and fire off four bullets in quick succession, the irradiated cracks deafening against the sudden quiet that had fallen. Two of them caught the raider in the head and a third in the neck, and he tumbled back, landing in the snow with a massive thud that MacCready swore he could feel on his icy perch.

The silence that followed was almost as loud as the submachine gun, stark now that the fight was over. He saw Vol straighten up, getting off the ground and brushing snow off his knees. MacCready couldn’t see any blood, _thank god_ , though he had to think Vol was going to be black and blue from his reckless fall.

“MacCready?” He heard his name over the wind, just barely. “You alright?”

“I’m good,” he called back down, getting up unsteadily. “Kind of slippery up here.”

Vol found him at last, tilting his masked face up to see in a manner that made MacCready think he was probably squinting. “Be careful,” he yelled back.

“Yeah, don’t gotta tell me twice,” MacCready muttered, doing his best to not look down as he got a death grip on the icy railing, the cold biting into his fingers beneath his gloves, and made his way down cautiously.

Vol met him at the bottom, offering a hand to guide him over the last six steps. He brushed him off, instead jumping the rest of the way and landing with an ‘oof’ in the snow.

MacCready straightened up as Vol righted himself, his coat and belongings ruffled from the rough fight. “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, shooting the masked man a look. “Do you have a death wish?”

Vol glanced down at him and adjusted the collar of his coat. “I was just improvising,” he said sheepishly. “I needed to get down.”

“Don’t _do_ that again,” MacCready groused, though his annoyance was already fading with the adrenaline of the fight. “I can’t watch your back if you’re off jumping off things like that.”

Vol looked away, having the decency to be ashamed of the rash action. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well…” In the spur of the moment, it _had_ made sense he guessed, though MacCready never would have considered it or done it himself. “Just—just don’t do that again. Alright?”

“Alright,” Vol agreed. He was quiet a moment. “No promises.”

MacCready rolled his eyes with a mock-annoyed groan before moving past Vol to check out the raider bodies for ammo and caps. Vol followed his lead, busying himself on the power armor by swinging the crowbar on his back down to pry it apart and loot the hydraulics within.

There wasn’t much to find that MacCready thought worth weighing himself down with, and he sure as heck wasn’t going to make the climb back up until they were ready. The snow was pouring now, and he slapped the brim of his hat, grunting in irritation at the snow that fell off. “Vol, it’s going to be hell to get back up,” he said loudly. “We need to find your guy and go before this becomes a blizzard.”

Vol finished with the power armor, tucking his salvage away in his bag. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s move into the tunnels up there.” MacCready followed his finger, noting the path that led up to a secluded back area. _Hell,_ he thought, wishing he was back in the Rexford with a pile of blankets.

“Lead the way,” he said, shouldering his rifle and following Vol up into the back tunnel.

It was clear that this was where the raiders were camping out, from the various ramshackle bedrooms and large stash of chems to the general disorganized chaos. MacCready wrinkled his nose as he passed a bucket that only could’ve served as someone’s bathroom, choosing to skirt along the opposite wall while Vol raided the raiders right back. He was no chem user, but they sold well, and MacCready could respect the desire for caps over a brief high. Anything Vol was paying him was getting sent down to the Capital Wasteland, and he was determined to continue sending what he could until he got the word Duncan was recovered enough to travel.

The day he got that letter was one that made him itch in anticipation. God, he wanted to go home and see his kid again. It had been too long, and he prayed Duncan wouldn’t hate him for leaving, even if it was for the cure. He’d wasted so much time here in the Commonwealth, drinking and gambling and making terrible mistakes that he should’ve _known_ better about…

With the Institute lurking in the shadows and the Brotherhood of Steel in the Commonwealth—all loud and proud with their dicks out as they flew around in their glorified hot air balloon—MacCready was nervous about bringing Duncan back here. But his kid was all he had left in the Capital Wasteland. Up here in the Commonwealth, however…

Völundr made him feel safer than he had in years. The masked man did not strike him as the person who would have managed that, but he had all the same. He was driven and far deadlier than he let on, considering how utterly terrible his ability to hold a conversation with most people was. It was almost less awkward listening to Diamond City radio before Travis Miles had shaped the hell up and gained the confidence to actually do his job.

And they were friends. Actual _friends_. He hadn’t been able to trust anyone like he did Völundr in years, ever since Lucy… and he’d still lied to her. Still hadn’t told her everything. Not that he had told Vol everything either, but Völundr wasn’t his _wife_. If Duncan was going to be safe anywhere… Here in the Commonwealth with his dad and his dad’s best friend was the place to be.

“MacCready.” His name drew him from his thoughts, and he blinked, looking up at Vol, who had pushed his mask up to give the small sniper a questioning look. “You in there?”

“Yes,” MacCready replied, shaking himself out and forcing himself fully back to the present. “Sorry. I’m here now.”

“I said I found a door,” Vol said. “Are you alright?”

“Am I—” MacCready blew a breath out. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m good. Don’t worry.”

Vol watched him for a moment, regarding him, before sliding his mask in place and looking away. “Okay. Just making sure. Let’s go check this place out. Blackbird’s in here, I’m certain of it.”

“If you’re sure,” MacCready said, thinking of the skeletons in the cage outside and wondering if maybe they were too late for this Blackbird guy. He pulled his gun off his back again, readying himself for whatever hell awaited them in the quarry’s interior. “I’m right behind you.”

 

* * *

 

MacCready was surprised by the dark mine that lay beneath the quarry, stretching on for seemingly miles beyond. It was nostalgic in a way—all it needed was a handful of foul-mouthed kids and some lanterns and it would almost feel like home again. Alas, the only light was the flashlight on Vol’s Pip-Boy.

Voices carried down the corridor, grating and cruel. MacCready followed Vol as he ducked to the ground, pressing against the wall of the mine. They were indistinguishable from here, but he was almost certain it belonged to raiders. _Nostalgia gone_ , he thought.

“I’m going to scout this out,” Vol whispered. “Hang back here.”  
  
MacCready blinked in surprise. “It’s dark in here,” he pointed out.

“Sorry,” Vol said, before turning his light off and slipping into the dark.

“Vol—dang it!” MacCready hissed after him. _No more reckless things,_ he’d asked, not _twenty minutes before_ , and the idiot was already hunting down trouble. In the dark.

With a huff, he sat, holding his rifle close and listening hard for anything suspicious. Hopefully Völundr wouldn’t engage in anything stupid before returning. At least he wasn’t _that_ dumb. Probably.

MacCready rubbed his forehead in annoyance. It would pass, and they’d get out of here alive, but it didn’t mean he _liked_ sitting alone in the dark in a mine full of raiders and god-knew what else.

That was when the mine rumbled for the first time, rocks groaning as they threatened to shift, the bulb in a broken wall-set lamp rattling as the ground quaked for only a few seconds before settling back down again in a shower of dislodged dust.

MacCready nearly jumped out of his skin, scrambling to his feet and raising his rifle instinctively as though the rock was going to leap out and eat him. Wide-eyed, he spun around, fishing for his lighter before hesitating. Who knew what gases were down here he couldn’t smell? That was something he had learned from Joseph. Maybe a flame wasn’t a good idea.

A breath shuddered out of his chest, clouding in front of his face. It must’ve been a freak thing, right? No way these raiders were hanging out in an unstable mine, right?

“Did you feel that?”

MacCready swung around, the yell already half out of his throat and rifle raised to bash his assailant’s brains in, before he realized the man facing him was in a gas mask and had a Pip-Boy on his arm. He choked his cry down, pulling his gun back and lowering it. “Jesus, Vol,” he whispered. “You scared the sh… scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry,” Vol said quietly. “I came back as soon as I felt the mine shake.” He stepped back, giving MacCready some air as the sniper discreetly rested a hand to his chest and caught his breath. “There’s five raiders up ahead. Don’t know if any are further on, but it goes pretty far. Saw a lift around the corner but it looked like it was out of order.”

MacCready shook himself from his shock, focusing on Vol’s voice. “I don’t think we should be hanging around here long,” he advised, slightly rattled. “Or getting in massive firefights if we can avoid it.”

“We can’t leave,” Vol said firmly. “I need to find Blackbird. You _know_ I need the Railroad to trust me.”

“I hear you,” MacCready said, a bit sharper than he’d intended. “Look, let’s just get in, find your guy, and get out as fast as we can.”

Vol sighed, but it was followed by a noise of agreement. “Stay close. I’m gonna need your eyes.” He straightened up without another word, leading the way further into the mine. Reluctantly, MacCready stood after him, pushing his concerns away forcibly. It must’ve been a fluke. A once-off incident. The mine had held for over 200 years, it would hold for another 20 minutes.

He followed Vol around the corner, raising his gun in defense as their path was slowly illuminated by the flicker of firelight. He could hear the raiders clearer now, and from what little he could gather, this was not the first time the mine had quaked.

“MacCready,” Vol whispered. “They’re just around the next bend. See if you can take them out from here.”

“On it,” he acknowledged, mentally cramming his fist down the throat of that panicked beast the shaking had dredged up. He was being stupid. Nothing was going to happen. They were going to be just fine, as long as the raiders didn’t murder them. _Hardly likely._

He moved flat against the wall, tiptoeing forward and peering around the next corner. There, he could see the five raiders milling around, doing their…raider-y things. _Hitting Jet and daydreaming about mutilating corpses_ , he thought to himself, flicking the safety off his rifle and raising it. The dark made for perfect cover, and he did not have to aim long to fire off two shots back to back, reloading between each of them at lightning speed. Both hit their marks, taking two raiders down with their brains spilling out their eyes.

The other three were alerted instantly by the sudden assault, and MacCready took the opportunity to pick off another one. He didn’t have time to get a fourth before the two remaining were on them, firing wildly. He ducked back behind the corner, and Vol switched with him, stepping out of cover to open fire on the raiders with cold efficiency. They fell before they reached the two men, radioactive bullets cooking in their rib cages.

“Well, the place didn’t catch on fire. That’s good,” MacCready commented dryly. Vol didn’t spare him a glance, listening instead for the sounds of more raiders. MacCready held his breath, waiting for raiders to jump out with guns a-blazing, but he only heard silence and the slight drip of water somewhere out of sight.

“They must’ve mistaken it for an in-group struggle,” Vol decided after a moment, relaxing his posture. “Come on. We need to keep going.”

They passed the bodies without looting— _can loot on the way out, I guess_ —and headed further down the precarious path, ancient and clearly not the leading standards of safety pre-War. They weren’t very far from the first camp when MacCready spotted something out of the corner of his eye, and he grabbed Vol’s arm to stop him.

“Look to your left,” he whispered with a pointed nod. Vol’s gaze followed, and he saw the same thing MacCready had: a cell, backlit by a dying lantern.

The two approached, guns ready, but as they crested the path to the cell they were overwhelmed by the scent of decaying flesh. MacCready made a noise of disgust, grabbing the collar of his duster to cover his mouth and nose while Vol got closer. “That’s disgusting,” he complained of the half-rotted body that lay behind the cell bars. “I’m gonna puke.”

Vol made no indication the smell bothered him, perhaps by whatever witch magic he’d done to the filter of his gas mask (it had to be witch magic), and he stooped to pick the cell lock and examine the body. A disappointed noise escaped the taller man, and MacCready could almost hear Vol’s frown from where MacCready had retreated from the fresh aroma of rotting corpse.

“What?” MacCready asked, muffled by his hand.

“It’s Blackbird,” Vol said, examining the holotape he’d found on the man’s body. “He’s dead. Dammit.”

“I noticed,” MacCready muttered, watching Vol stand and step back from the body. “Sucks.”

“Yeah,” Vol agreed, retreating to MacCready’s side. “Let’s get out of here. We can reach the Railroad by tonight if we move now.”

“Great, gotta climb those icy deathtraps again,” MacCready whined, trailing after Vol as he led the two back towards the entrance. Vol stopped to loot the raiders, though MacCready doubted they had anything good, then take a look at the old terminal under a giant “1” they had been gathered around. Vol was silent as he read, and a small “huh” escaped him as he stepped back.

“What?” MacCready asked, rubbing his hands together for some extra warmth.

“It’s… I dunno,” Vol said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m fucking freezing. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Right behind you,” MacCready said gratefully, half-jogging to catch back up to his side and head back for the entrance.

 

* * *

 

The wind was starting to howl outside, and MacCready pulled his coat closer around himself, shivering as it whistled down the tunnel leading back to the open quarry. He heard Vol swear under his breath, turning his coat hood up and fastening the clasp at his neck to keep it in place. _Should’ve gotten one of those things for myself, damn_ , he thought to himself.

“When we get to the Railroad tonight…” Vol started, before trailing off. “We’re not going to be able to get to the Railroad tonight."

“No?” MacCready asked. “Why?”

Vol glanced his way. “You can’t go in,” he explained. “You’ll be stuck out in the cold.”

“…Oh.” MacCready admitted he hadn’t considered that just yet. It would have crossed his mind before long, but it was touching to know that Vol had thought of it first. “Well…yeah. That’s true.”

Vol grunted. “We’ll go as far as Bunker Hill and… bunker down for the night.”

There was a moment of silence between them, before… “Shut up,” MacCready groaned. “That _sucked_.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vol said, feigning innocence.

“You know _exactly_ what you did, you—”

Vol never got a chance to find out what he was, as when they emerged into the open air of the quarry they were greeted by the click and hum of guns raised their way.

MacCready swung his rifle up at the sound, but he knew almost immediately they were outnumbered and outmanned. Approximately a dozen men and women had taken up around the floor of the quarry and the first row of platforms above them, a heavy dusting of snow coating their armor. At first he thought them to be more raiders through the heavy snowfall, but as the man closest to them approached—a big lumbering hulk of a guy with a missile launcher heaved on his shoulder—he recognized the green armor and camo fatigues and that damned, arrogant painted skull adorning their belongings. _Aw, no._

“Thought we heard some noise down here,” the Gunner commander said, voice dripping with something MacCready couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t just disdain, maybe… a bit of glee? “Came to check it out, and what do I see? A deserter.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” MacCready lied. He steeled his body for a brief and bloody shootout that he wasn’t sure he and Vol would walk away from. _Not good_ was not close to descriptive enough for the hell that was threatening to be unleashed.

“Don’t play stupid, shortstack,” the commander snapped, barely maintaining his composure. “We know who you are. Know the way you painted the walls with Winlock and Barnes’s blood.”

MacCready only barely bit back the curse beneath his breath. Yeah, they were officially screwed. He figured he could pop off maybe two, three at max, of these Gunners before that missile launcher splattered his guts across the quarry walls. _At least Duncan will get the cure_ , he thought. At least his son would survive even if he did not.

“Look,” Vol cut in, voice harsh through his mask. “You see what we did to these raiders. They even had power armor and we fucking ruined them. Didn’t spill a drop of our own blood. You saw what we did to your useless pissants at the Interchange. If you don’t want us to fuck you up too, then I suggest you _back off._ ”

If anything pushed the skinny man into sounding truly intimidating, it was the threat of death like this. And MacCready saw the way the Gunners shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the rumors they _had_ heard of the two men—and the other company they kept.

It was enough, because in one fell swoop Vol moved, snapping the pin off a grenade MacCready didn’t realize he’d had and lobbing it at the Gunner commander. The man shouted, backpedaling fast, and MacCready grabbed Vol’s arm and yanked them back into the tunnel they had come from.

The explosion rocked the stones around them, dislodging dust on their heads, and a furious yell resounded before the entrance was alight with a cocktail of energy blasts and bullets.

“Go!” he yelled, shoving Vol back down the tunnel. They weren’t going to stand a chance in the open like this—they needed to get the high ground, needed to find better cover.  He could practically feel the Gunners breathing down their necks, and Vol abruptly pulled away, spinning and throwing another grenade down towards the exit.

_We’re going to take this entire place down with us_ , MacCready thought, following Vol as he sprinted back up towards the door to the mine. Being crushed to death was probably less painful than some ways to die, but it wasn’t at the top of his list. Being blasted apart by Gunners did not make that list at all, especially if those bullets ended up in his back. _Assuming_ they just killed him and left him to rot.

Vol threw the door open and ran inside, MacCready throwing himself in after him and yanking it shut. The damn thing didn’t lock, but it was a brief second of reprieve.

“We’re going to attract any raiders left down there,” Vol hissed, grabbing and cocking his radium rifle.

“Raiders are the least of my worries right now,” MacCready replied, his heart pounding against his chest. His hands were steady as he reloaded his own gun, however. “What’s the plan?”

A volley of fire splintered the door, taking it off its hinges, and the two men ducked back to avoid the carnage. “Shoot until they’re dead!” Vol yelled, lobbing yet another frag grenade out the doorway. The resounding explosion, followed by screaming, meant they’d hit at least one. Vol took the heartbeat break in gunfire to lunge to the other side of the entrance, peering just far enough around the corner to unleash a hail of irradiated bullets. MacCready took the other flank of the door, barely able to see any enemies in all the dust and snow being kicked up but firing a shot as soon as he saw something resembling a head. From the loud thud, it had to have been a direct hit.

“Storm them!” The commander’s voice carried over the gunfire, and MacCready recalled that the man had had a missile launcher. _He won’t be stupid enough to fire that off in here…right?_

“Go!” Vol shouted, and just in time, as it turned out the Gunner _was_ stupid enough. The two men sprinted down the mine path, barely evading the missile that decimated the entrance to the cavern with brutal efficiency. The explosion rocked the entire quarry, and a few rocks became dislodged, one the size of a basketball nearly caving MacCready’s skull in.

They fled back towards the first raider camp, the gunfire drowned in MacCready’s ears by the rush of his own blood, breath coming short and fast as his heart threatened to beat itself straight out of his chest. They were going to die, he felt certain. They were going to die in this damn quarry.

A bullet tore the sleeve of his duster, and another clipped his shoulder, drawing a yelp from him. Vol moved fast, grabbing him and pulling him in the alcove of two rocks, blocking MacCready’s body with his own and throwing another frag back towards the entrance. The wound was superficial, but the blood was coming, shallow and painful. “Vol, we need to get out of here,” he hissed in alarm.

“That lift,” Vol said, and MacCready could hear the panic in his voice. “It’s gotta lead somewhere, if we can just find the back way—”

Another missile shook the quarry, and Vol broke off in a curse, grabbing MacCready’s collar and drawing out of their hiding spot to continue their escape further into the darkness. They could barely see where they were going save by the red light of laser blasts and the fires that burned from the missile launcher. Ahead, MacCready heard the voices of raiders—drawn by the firefight this time, something so much more intense and violent than anything the two men had managed before.

MacCready found his pistol on his hip and pointed it over his shoulder—his shots were random and poorly aimed but he heard at least one other Gunner go down. That left what…eight? _Damn it._

They rounded the corner, nearing where Blackbird’s body rested, and came face-to-face with a party of raiders from further within the mine. “Fuck,” he heard Vol whisper, and MacCready lost all hope of walking out of Dunwich alive when they raised their pipe weapons, blood-painted faces twisted into something vicious and evil. This was how they were going to die then, wasn’t it? Pinned between Gunners and Raiders with nowhere to go.

Vol tore for the cell with MacCready right on his heels, but it was a dead end, and they both knew it. The raiders and Gunners were going to pin them in here, and while the narrow cavern and the incline might’ve been helpful in this situation had they an automatic weapon, they simply were not going to stand a chance against that missile launcher with just some rifles.

“Vol,” MacCready panted, pinning himself to one side of the cell and avoiding the inconsequential stench of Blackbird’s corpse as Vol slammed up against the opposite wall, fingers fumbling to reload his radium rifle. “Vol—”

“MacCready,” Vol cut in. “If you get out of here alive—”

“Don’t—"

“I need you to find Shaun. I need you—I beg you, please—find Shaun.” Vol’s voice was cracked. “Please.”

MacCready choked on his own protest. “I will,” he croaked out, knowing damn well he wasn’t going to get any further than Vol if his companion fell. He got the feeling Vol knew that, too.

The two groups were firing on one another, but it would be mere seconds before the two men were going to be overwhelmed again. Vol readied himself, raising his gun with a determination that MacCready had seen only before in warriors who knew they were going to die. _No, please—_

And four men and women were on them, mixed raiders and mercenaries who had briefly teamed up to deal with the common threat. A primal roar escaped Vol, and he leapt into their path, unloading his rifle into them. A bullet clipped his leg and MacCready readied his gun to join him, but Vol wasn’t going to stand down, not until he was truly dead—

A missile was blasted into the crowd, be it aimed at the raiders or the two men MacCready could not be sure, but it mattered little as the explosion knocked Vol back into the opposite wall, and the mine finally gave way.

Gunfire turned to screams as the occasional rumbles turned into a full collapse, all thoughts of a fight forgotten as people scrambled for safety. MacCready felt panic in his veins as he lunged for Vol, limp against the back wall, and pulled him up against his chest in an awkward bear hug. The taller man groaned, at least indicating he’d survived the blow.

“MacCready,” he mumbled into his ear, dazed and barely audible over the mine.

“We need to go!” MacCready shouted, failing to hide his terror as the ceiling was caving in. He tried guiding him to the cell door. “Vol, we—”

The path before them chose just that moment to cave in, and MacCready could not help his surprised yell, grabbing Vol and shoving him to the ground. The other man snarled in pain—he might’ve had broken bones, MacCready was being too rough, but they were going to die.

He threw himself into the far corner of the cell, dragging Vol over with him. “Cover your head!” he screamed, shielding their heads with his arm. Vol found the strength to comply, pulling his feet in and tucking down to protect his neck. His other arm found Vol’s waist, pulling them together and praying for a quick and painless death.

_I’m sorry, Duncan. I love you._

The world collapsed around them, and everything went dark.


	2. Trapped

The first thing MacCready knew was the sound of breath against his neck, and the weight in his arms, clutching him like a lifeline. It was hot and heavy, and he was clinging right back to it. Everything was dark and cramped and his own breath was coming shallow and uneven, body aching, the air suffocating. The scent of blood, sweat, oil and dust filled his nose. He held himself close to his companion, head swimming, as the world spun and the fires of hell surely approached.

But there was only darkness. Silence. Suffocating _silence._ He felt claustrophobic without even seeing his surroundings. Stiffness gripped his body as he tried to move an arm, a tiny hiss broke his chapped lips. What had happened? Were they dead? Was this death? No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. Death couldn’t be this, an eternity of—of this, of thin cramped air, of blindness and deafness and the taste of dust on his tongue. 

“Vol,” he croaked, voice dry and hoarse. He got no response. “Vol,” he repeated, quieter, curling his fingers into the figure beneath the coat—that was what he was holding, that was right, the thick fur-lined coat. “Please answer me.”

“Mm,” was the reply he got, faint even in the quiet as his blood rushed in his ears. _He’s alive,_ MacCready thought, though his breathing had told him it already—he was frazzled and harried. What the heck had happened? How were they alive?

“Vol,” he said a third time, finding an ounce of strength to put some force back into his tone. “Wake up.”

“Mac…” Vol mumbled, clutching at the small sniper. His gas mask pressed into his chest, the hard ridges digging in painfully. “Are we dead?”

MacCready risked looking up, just a fraction, and met only the darkness. “I don’t think so,” he whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Hard to breathe,” Vol murmured back. “Body hurts.”

“I bet,” MacCready replied, cautiously pulling him closer. This was no moment for keeping any respectable distance. “Can I use your Pip-Boy?”

He got a mere grunt in response, which he took for a yes and he felt the wrist computer against his right side. Cautiously he slipped a hand down Vol’s arm, finding the straps for the Pip-Boy and undoing them carefully. Vol tightened his grip on MacCready’s duster briefly, then let go so the sniper could slide the Pip-Boy off and fumble to pull the home page up.

The unnatural green light lit their space up, MacCready squinting at the sudden brightness, and it took him a moment to adjust and scope his surroundings. What he saw made his heart leap into his throat.

They were trapped, only inches of clearance around them before it was all rubble and rock. They were pressed hard into the corner of the cell, a splatter of blood at their feet where the rocks had crushed Blackbird’s body and smeared his insides across the floor. A few maggots the size of his thumb that had escaped the carnage skittered between the cracks. MacCready bit down a wave of nausea.

It appeared a large rock had fallen at an angle, wedging itself above their heads and creating a triangular shelter that had just barely kept them alive. His breath clouded in front of his face, a mixture of dust and fog, and he ended up coughing, choking on the air.

If he hadn’t put them in the corner, they would’ve died. The thought was chilling to his very bone.

“What’s happened?” Vol asked quietly, not looking up from MacCready’s shoulder.

“We…” MacCready trailed off, unsure of how exactly to describe their situation. He decided on just being blunt. “We’re buried alive.”

This was a childhood nightmare come alive, the kind of thing he had grown up fearing living in caves with only starving kids to free him should anything go wrong. Now, even as an adult, he wasn’t sure if there was any way out of their predicament.

Vol looked up at last with a quiet hiss of pain. “Oh… you’re right,” he said plainly. A moment passed, and he drew in a sharp breath that startled MacCready. “Fuck… fuck, no. God damn it, no.” He gripped tightly at MacCready’s duster, enough that his nails were digging in painfully, and his next words were rattled. “No, not like this…”

MacCready swallowed dryly, pulling up the flashlight on the Pip-Boy to give them some proper light before setting it to his side. “Vol.” He felt his companion’s filtered breaths hard and slightly panicked against his side. “Vol,” he repeated more firmly. That caught the other man’s attention, and he looked up again. MacCready couldn’t see into the eye lenses of the mask, but he could recognize a panic attack. “We’re going—we’re going to run out of air.” The thought was terrifying. And speaking it aloud made it far a more frightening reality than it was before. “We have to—we need to get out of here. I need you to focus.”

Vol shook his head. “How?” he asked shakily. “Where do we go?”

MacCready did not know the answer to that question. He was barely holding himself together as it was. “Don’t matter, I need your brain. Come on, Blacksmith.”

“Don’t _Blacksmith_ me,” Vol snapped with surprising venom, and MacCready withdrew a fraction with a frown creasing his features, surprised. “You’re not stupid. You know that if we move that rock we’re going to be smashed to shit. Either that or we fucking suffocate to death.”  
  
“No, I’m _not_ stupid,” MacCready said, stern. “I grew up in a cave city, remember? I know what’s going to happen.”

“So what do you want _me_ to do?” Vol demanded, but the crack in his voice betrayed the terror that was still closing its iron grip on him.

“Help me figure out how we _do_ get out before then,” MacCready said. “We do _not_ have the air in here to argue.”  
  
Vol moved to sit up slightly and make a retort, but it was drowned in a moan of pain and he flopped back against the mercenary limply. MacCready abandoned his anger to grab the taller man, holding him steady. “I’m hurt,” Vol murmured.

“I know,” MacCready replied, gentler.

“We need to get out,” Vol said, softer again. “Our sons… We have to…”

MacCready’s heart twisted and he felt sick. They weren’t going to see either of their boys again, not unless they _did_ escape. He thought of Duncan alone, perhaps abandoned in Little Lamplight when it became clear his dad was not coming back. Of growing up in those caves, starving, freezing, and thrown to the wolves when he was barely old enough to pass at a reputable bar. And of Shaun, stuck in the Institute, a child with only the cold hands of synths to care for him—or worse, the cruel hands of the synth’s makers. That kid would not grow up knowing love the way a child should.

His heart raced in his chest. The air was already feeling tight. Vol had the advantage of the gas mask—he would probably die after MacCready did, despite his injuries. And they would join their wives and their sons would grow up alone. The thought was unbearable, after everything that had happened. He couldn’t let this happen.

He let the other man go, shaking hands reaching up to pull his scarf around his nose and mouth.

Vol looked up at the sudden action and loss of contact. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Doing my damnedest to get us out of here,” MacCready said, with a lot more confidence than he felt, but he had to do _something_. He shifted them awkwardly, moving Vol into the corner and crouching in the little space that remained. He felt lightheadedness setting in already, their limited air supply dwindling fast. “We got kids to get home to. Kids to break out of the Institute.”

He picked up the Pip-Boy and examined the edges of the rock that had saved their life, doing his best to ignore the maggots on the floor. It shifted when he put his hand on it, but didn’t budge further than a millimeter, _maybe_. It was nearly impossible to tell how many tons of rock were piled atop them without risking it all falling on their heads.  
  
MacCready shifted to look back at Vol, whose eyes he could feel on his back beyond that mask. “Vol…” he started.  
  
“You want to try and move the rock,” Vol finished for him. “But it might crush us.” MacCready nodded, once. At least he still had Vol focused enough to remain somewhat logical.

“What hurts more?” The question caught MacCready off guard, and he watched Vol for a second.  
  
“What?” he asked.

“What hurts more?” Vol repeated. “Getting smashed to pieces, suffocating to death, or a bullet to the head?”

MacCready gave it only a moment’s consideration. “Probably getting smashed,” he said. “The other two, you die unconscious, or you die instantly, I guess, seeing how I’ve never _died_ before. Vol, don’t do this. We need to…” He broke off into a cough, clutching his front. The lack of oxygen and the dust was going to kill him soon at this rate. “We need to _try_ and get out of here, damn it!”

“How long do you think we’ve got?” Vol asked him, weaker.

“Long enough for me to tell you to shut up and _help me_ ,” MacCready exploded, surprised by his own volume, and clearly catching Vol off his guard by his flinch. “Are you going to lay there and _give up_ or can you help me at least _try_ and escape?!”

His anger earned him an uncomfortably long stretch of silence from the masked man. This was no time to beat around any bushes. They both had too much at stake.

Finally, “What do you need me to do?”

MacCready waved him over. “Get your shoulder under the rock and push as hard as you can. Maybe we can dislodge it.”  
  
“And if we can’t?” Vol asked, but he was sliding over, holding his side where it clearly ached from his blow into the wall.

“Then we can start talking about the joys of a pistol to the head,” MacCready snipped. “Now, on three.” He moved to crouch in the pool of blood, bracing his shoulder and arms against the rock with a snarl twisting his lips. Vol picked up his Pip-Boy, strapping it back to his arm, and shifted painfully to mirror the sniper. “One. Two… Three!”

Together they pushed with all the strength they could muster. MacCready felt his feet slip in Blackbird’s blood and heat flush to his face with exertion. The slab did not budge so easily, though. Perhaps if Vol hadn’t been so wounded…

“Damn it,” he heard Vol snarl, and the taller man braced his foot into the corner and shoved hard. A jolt ran down MacCready’s spine as he realized that Vol’s extra push had managed to shift the damn thing at last, even if just a bit. Rocks tumbled down from behind the stone, dislodged by their efforts.

“Keep going!” MacCready ordered, shoving his weight into the stone with every ounce of strength in his body. He was getting out of here if it freaking killed him. He could hear Vol straining beside him, a growl dredged from the depths of his chest that made MacCready’s own gut twist at the noise. Please, he prayed, closing his eyes as he felt another rock come loose from beyond. Please.

And then the entire thing started heaving above them, pushing away rocks that had blocked it before and allowing what was left over their heads to come cascading down around them. He fell with the stone, boots slipping in the blood, and he landed with a loud grunt. Vol slipped and hit the ground with an ‘oof’, flat on his stomach.

A deep gasp of air found its way into MacCready’s lung, tainted with rock dust, but the air was clearer here than it had been inside their little prison. Coughs racked his chest, and he went slack, resting his face on the rock that had saved their lives.

They lay there for a moment, panting, and Vol was the first to pick himself back up, even if it was just to move to MacCready’s side in a pained crawl. The sniper looked at his companion, reaching up to wipe dust from his eyes. A half-choked laugh managed to escape him, almost manic—they’d freed themselves of that hellish little corner.

“MacCready,” Vol whispered, quieting the mercenary back down. “I need a stimpak. Now.”

Right. He was hurt—god knew how badly after that blow into the wall. MacCready sat up with a wince, arms protesting after the strain of pushing the rock aside, and swung his bag off his back, praying nothing had been smashed in the violent fight.

Vol weakly offered his arm for light, and MacCready found a stimpak in his gear, along with his water canteen. He took a drink from the latter, before nodding to Vol. “Where?”

“Back,” Vol said. MacCready complied in silence, loosening Vol’s armor and leathers and pushing his undershirt up. A nasty bruise was forming on the pale man’s back—he might’ve had broken ribs from the blow, though his backpack seemed to have taken the brunt of it. MacCready stuck him with the needle, earning a hiss from Vol as he emptied the vial, then righted him back up, friendly pat on the shoulder as he sat back.

Vol sighed in relief as the stimpak went to work, and he found the strength to climb to his hands and knees. He dug for his own canteen and shoved his mask up to take a deep drink of water. In the little light they had, MacCready could see the stress in Vol’s expression and the smeared lines of dried tears on his cheeks. It was hidden fast as Vol snapped his mask back into place and took a breath of filtered air.

“Let’s take a look at what we’re dealing with,” he suggested, and MacCready acknowledged him with an indistinct noise, climbing to his feet. The ceiling had opened some from the blast, though Vol was having to duck to avoid smacking his head. The cell itself was filled approximately waist-deep with debris, a good amount dislodged from their escape. The path leading out, however…

“Do you see any way through?” MacCready asked, examining the blocked route. The cell door had crumpled under the collapse, but MacCready could only see maybe a foot of clearance between the rock and what ceiling was left.

“No,” Vol said. “Do you hear anything?”  
  
They both fell silent, but the only sound that greeted them was the whistle of tunnel wind. “I don’t,” MacCready reported after a moment.

Vol moved to the cell’s exit, examining the small clearance between there and the main tunnel below. It was maybe twenty feet of rock they had to climb through, but at least he could see the other side. He looked back at MacCready, who had busied himself picking up both of their dropped guns among the rubble. The radium rifle was beat up, the wire-woven barrel bent and two large cracks in the stock. His own gun had survived the blow in better shape, but looking it over MacCready was near certain it was either going to jam or explode in his face the next time he fired it unless he gave it a good look-over.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Vol muttered, eyeing the damage to his rifle in audible annoyance. MacCready gave an apologetic shrug and offered it over, pulling his hand back again when Vol snatched the gun.

“You think you can fix it?” he asked.

“I _can_ ,” Vol corrected, turning it over in his hands to examine with his specialized eye. “But this rifle’s radioactive. It’s lucky it didn’t break and rad us to death but… I’ll need more specialized equipment.” He sighed. “And I didn’t bring my own sniper rifle with me this time.”

“Hey, you got me,” MacCready said. “You still got your pistol then?”  
  
“Yes,” Vol said, pulling the muffled 10mm off his belt. The Deliverer, he’d called it, but MacCready thought the thing was far too weak to sound so haughty.

“Good.” MacCready straightened again fully, briefly grateful for his short stature. “Now, what’re you thinking about getting out of here?”

Vol hummed shortly, shining his light down the gap. “We might be able to clear the rock out enough to get through,” he said. “But we’ll need to be careful to not trigger another rockslide or some shit.”

MacCready moved to stand at his side, giving the rocks a once-over. “Well,” he said, “It’s a better idea than any I had.”

“I know,” Vol said, without much bite. “Let’s get to work.”

 

* * *

 

It was a laborious task, and MacCready found himself on his stomach in a claustrophobic space, rolling rocks awkwardly back up to Vol, who took them and placed them in the ever-growing pile in the back of the cell. While Vol was overall the skinnier man, MacCready was shorter and had less broad shoulders, as well as having not taken a crushing blow into the wall previously.

He’d taken Vol’s spare set of welding goggles and tied his scarf tight around his nose and mouth, leaving his hat, flannel and duster behind to avoid snagging on as few things as possible as he worked. His knees and shins kept scraping on the rock despite his pants, and he was sure they were a bloody mess by now, though the light was too poor to see properly with Vol so far behind him.

“I’m almost there,” he reported at last, reaching an arm out and finding an end to the blockage. He waved his hand, feeling for anything else, but it didn’t seem like there was anything blocking them beyond this. “Vol, I’m almost out!”

“Oh thank god,” he heard behind him, and with renewed energy he started pushing rocks forward, letting them tumble loudly into the darkness below.

Vol gathered their belongings and climbed up after him, as the final rocks fell. MacCready whooped, rolling onto his side to scoot around and slide down cautiously. Vol was not far behind him, grunting as he dragged everything with him.

“We’re out,” MacCready breathed, climbing to his feet as Vol slid down beside him. He wiped his dirty hands off on his soaked undershirt, blowing a breath out. _Least it’s not cold down here now._ “I never wanted to do that again.”

“I never want to do that _ever_ again,” Vol agreed, getting up unsteadily. He grabbed MacCready’s shoulder to find his balance, before turning up the brightness on his Pip-Boy again and raising his arm to cast the light around.

Many rocks had fallen, looser stones on the walls now on the ground, a few various, smaller tunnels caved in completely. It was worse the further up the path went, and MacCready didn’t like the sinking feeling he got in his gut as he observed the damage. Two raiders and a Gunner had been visibly crushed in the collapse, not including whoever might have died in the tunnel to the jail cell.

“Jesus Christ,” he heard Vol breathe. “MacCready, the entrance…”

MacCready pulled his shirt and hat back on, pushing the goggles down to his neck and shoving his jacket in his bag. He shouldered his rifle in favor of his own pistol until he had the time to give it a look-over. “Let’s go see,” he said.

Vol nodded, grabbing Deliverer, and took point. MacCready was right behind him, cautious in his footwork as they navigated the collapsed path, narrowed even further than it had been before. The catwalks were partially collapsed in some places, and MacCready took over when they encountered a particularly large section. His footsteps were light and careful, leading Vol across to the next catwalk.

MacCready could hear the strained breathing through Vol’s gas mask; the stimpak had only done just enough. _God, we need to get out of here_ , he thought.

They passed Station 1. The bodies from their first trip through had been crushed, and MacCready suppressed a gag at one raider whose body had been smashed in the middle by a boulder, limbs separated and gore coating the floor.

“Jesus fuck,” Vol said behind him, and they moved past anxiously.

The floor gave way somewhat beneath MacCready not far beyond, and he grabbed the wall with a choked off curse. This was treacherous. “Vol,” he warned. “Stay close.”

“I am,” Vol reported. MacCready was getting a bad feeling in his stomach as the ground evened out slightly. _Please, god, if you’re out there,_ he found himself praying. _Let us get out._

They rounded the last corner, and his heart stopped.

The entire entrance had collapsed in, some good five-hundred feet’s worth of rock blocking the only known exit from floor to ceiling. The lift they had spotted earlier had been destroyed, and the two men could only stand and marvel in horror at the sight before them.

“Vol,” MacCready managed, all the hopes he’d slowly been recovering from their survival and escape dashed in an instant. He had no idea what else to say, but he decided nothing really needed _to_ be said.

Vol pulled his mask off, his scarf slipping off his head as he did. In the light of the Pip-Boy he looked terribly young, and he made very little effort to hide the fear that etched his dirty features.

“We’re going to die in here,” he said simply, and MacCready did not have the confidence to disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Much shorter than the first, but it felt like this was the right place to end this one.
> 
> Thanks again to kreed for editing this!


End file.
